Steps
by Rosemary Baggins
Summary: Germany is struggling to find his place in the new post-war Europe, especially after Russia starts building his wretched Wall in the heart of Berlin. The blonde nation gets a little push to find peace again, and step on the proper road to full recovery. Side story to the Monochrome Series, and companion piece to 'Other side of the Wall'. Set during the events in Monochrome.


Side story to the Monochrome Series, and companion piece to 'Other side of the Wall'. Set during the events in _Monochrome_.

**Warning:** language, **T rated**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Hetalia.

**Pairing:** none really, but slight Germany x Italy, and Romano x Spain, also mentions of Germany x Prussia

No beta has seen it.

Historical notes on the bottom.

* * *

Steps

Wiping the sweat from his brows with a free hand, Germany took a deep breath when he finally stopped for a moment in the shade of a taller building.

This Southern Mediterranean sun, even during early fall, was burning his white skin. The weather was hot. The air vibrated with humidity and the scent of earth, fish and fresh goods. People hustled and bustled, haggling with vendors, creating a cacophony of noises and colours, filling the nearby little piazza with life.

Germany watched them move about for a while from his spot, leaning against the cooler wall of the building, trying to catch his breath before pulling out a neatly folded paper from his slacks. He studied it for a while, then stuffed it back to one of his pockets with a determination of a person, who refuses to give up, despite the positively grim prospects towards the future. Well, he might have been over-exaggerating a bit, but the situation was, indeed, less than favourable. Because despite being rather well-versed about maps and directions in general, he just couldn't make sense of the scribbles that America gave him as guidance. To put it simply, he was completely lost.

And to make things even worst, he was completely lost in a foreign town.

In Sicily.

Yes. That Sicily. The home of the Southern Italian sibling Sicily.

And if he wanted to be brutally honest with himself, which he was because Germany valued honesty above all, it was all his fault. He should have seen it coming from miles away. The whole story was dodgy from the beginning. Ah, of course, America and England coming to visit wasn't unusual, especially now that Russia has started building that wretched wall in the middle of Berlin, but everything after that should have frantically rung his alarm bells.

Yet he was unsuspecting.

He naively believed America when the man said that something has come up and he had to go back to the States earlier than scheduled. He agreed to help him out with some business he didn't have time to take care of. The superpower was an airhead so the request wasn't surprising, yet somewhere in the back of his mind he questioned why was he the best pick? Why not ask England? And at that point the first alarm should have gone off. But for whatever reason it didn't. However, the really stupid thing on his part was that when the bespectacled nation told him to pack up and get ready, he just obeyed. Probably because England was encouraging him as well, and the fact that no alarm screeched in his mind at that point either just attested to his unbelievable stupidity. And he only realised that he was being sent to Sicily when it was already too late.

Germany sighed heavily, refraining from cursing even within the privacy of his own head.

He had only himself to blame.

America probably had a less than savoury 'business' meeting with Romano. Concerning _stuff_.

But why send him, when he openly disliked the mafia was beyond the blonde man's comprehension. Then again, America's logic was rather difficult to understand in the first place.

And everything led to this point. Him being completely lost in a foreign city somewhere in Sicily.

Germany refused to curse, again.

He could have asked someone. His rudimentary knowledge of the language, what he picked up from Italy all those years ago, was incredibly broken, but he would have managed, probably. It's just that he was reluctant. Mainly pride in his skills of cartography and… Just pride would suffice.

With an annoyed head shake, Germany sighed once more. He really had to get over it.

There was nothing else to do then!

But he remained in the shades just for a couple of minutes longer, enjoying the refreshing coolness, before grabbing his suitcase, and pushing himself away from the wall, joining the rush of the market, trying to find someone who speaks English. Or is at least willing to help.

He stumbled around the busy people, floating in and out of the crowd as it moved in waves, attempting to catch someone's attention but failing miserably. Damn it! It's not like ha was that difficult to notice, but the locals seemed to avoid him. Dislike of tourists, perhaps. But right now it was making things even more complicated, and Germany would have groaned in frustration if not for the fact that he almost toppled over a person accidentally, while trying to get out of the worst crowd.

He caught the smaller person by the arm, steadying himself as well.

"Ah, mi scusi…"

Looking down, an overly familiar pair of honey-gold orbs looked back at him.

The air froze.

The blonde choked on a stunned gasp, heart skipping a beat.

Drowning.

It felt like drowning in a pool of molten gold. Trudging through the thick and heavy substance, brain trying to comprehend the vision in front of him. A chestnut curl bobbed in the air, pale pink lips hung open in surprise as shining eyes dilated in a disbelieving fashion.

"Ger-… Germany…?"

Italy looked exactly the same as he remembered. No, actually, he looked better. Healthier. He was vibrating, pulsating with the inexhaustible life energy of the Mediterranean. This youthful vitality shocked him every single time Ludwig met with the smaller nation, but now, after so many years… Ah, it's not like they haven't met on official meetings, and they spoke on the phone, as well… But seeing Italy at his own place, even if it was the South, seeing him surrounded with all the beauty of his home… It was breath-taking.

He was beautiful.

And Germany suddenly realized that he was shamefully gaping. And just by the heat pooling into his face he knew that he had to be tomato red.

"Um… I-"

"Fratello!"

The obnoxiously melodic and always angry voice of the Southern sibling cut him off with the promise of a shit-storm of epic proportions.

Ludwig cringed inside his head instinctively.

It's not like he didn't deserve every single ounce of Romano's hatred, though. After what happened, after what Germany did to Italy… To both of them really, it was sort of justified. He deserved it.

Heck! The whole reason he kept away from the smaller nation was exactly because of this! Because Italy has forgiven him, but he couldn't forgive himself just yet, and being in his presence, being subjected to his cheerful and loving attention was just too damn painful! And Romano never failed to point this out.

He was right. Ludwig didn't deserve it. If Italy stayed too close he would see the true demons hiding inside him. He would get burned. Ludwig refused to let him down again, to hurt him, or anyone else for that matter, and he was hell-bent on keeping this vow, but he was fearful. Of himself. Of the things he was capable of doing. Of the sins that were already woven into his history, his very soul.

He didn't deserve to be close to Italy. And he knew it better than anyone because every single time Italy was near him, every single time those honey-gold eyes rested on him, and that ever present smile lit up his day, he was scared, _fucking terrified_ that he'd wake up only to find the other broken, defeated, or even worst: dead. Killed by no one else but himself.

Therefore, in order to protect the other's blinding radiance, he kept his darkness away. Keeping his distance to rebuild himself, to start anew.

But he was also made of greed.

And for a moment he wanted to run.

For a moment he wanted to grab Italy and run with him.

For a moment he wanted to just grab Italy and never let him go, despite knowing that he didn't deserve it.

Fingers still curling around the nation's thin arm, waiting for the inevitable to happen, Germany was lost.

Just a few minutes more. A few minutes more with Italy in his arms before his own conscience and self-loathing kicked in, and he would force himself to part with the older man anyway. A few more minutes, that's all what he wanted.

But fate didn't favour him, and the next moment he looked up, his gaze met with stunned, dark-hazel orbs.

It took exactly four and a half seconds for Romano to react, but instead of blowing up and shouting, what Ludwig expected him to do, he grabbed his brother's arm, yanking him away and pulling in the opposite direction.

"Fratello, wait…!" Italy's protests was useless, and Romano's fingers held onto his wrist mercilessly.

"We are going home!"

"But Germany…" He tried to pull away, to wiggle out but there was no use.

Honey-gold eyes turned towards the tall blonde desperately, but before Germany could even comprehend what the hell happened, the siblings disappeared in the slowly rolling crowd.

The man blinked.

Was this…? Did he just imagine it?

His hand gripped only air, but the soft and silky feeling of skin under his fingertips was burned into his memory forever there to remain. It was too real.

No, it couldn't be. Or maybe…? It wasn't just his imagination playing tricks on him, it had to be real! Although, he sort of wished the other to be just an apparition, a hallucination, because the feeling of loss slithering over his heart would have been easier to accept that way.

_Sche- Scheiße…_

Tsk! So unbecoming. Letting his emotions run rampant, making him swear, even if silently… Unacceptable!

But as his hand curled into a fist and slowly fell back next to his body, Ludwig just couldn't help it! He should have at least asked Italy how he was doing. How could he have been so unbelievably stupid and disrespectful and –

His hand was grabbed suddenly, fingers digging into his flesh rather harshly, and he was being pulled towards the same direction where the siblings have disappeared.

_What the-?_

He stumbled.

"What the fuck are you waiting for, Potato Bastard? Move!" The voice that seemingly read his mind, and the insult were just too familiar, and as Germany looked up, the back of a really angry looking and stomping Romano greeted him. "I bet that asshole America sent you. What a prick!"

The blonde didn't know what to say. He was too shocked seeing Romano back. Too shocked to comprehend the other's comment fully. Too shocked to react. Although, it was true that America was the one who sent him, but… Ah… It's not like he could have known that Italy would be here, too, – why the heck was he here anyway!? – and Germany could have refused to help the man as well, especially when he found out his destination, – although at that time it was too late to back down, but… Argh!

Despite himself Ludwig had to agree that America was a prick sometimes. Well, often.

Nevertheless, Romano could have just sent him away. Or leave him in the crowd exactly how he did initially. So why did he come back? Why was the other leading him, his hated enemy – for reasons Germany could never quite understand – towards a surprised but happy looking Italy. Towards Italy, whose smile could have melted a_ fucking _– tsk, at this point it's probably easier if he just gives up, this day was just too weird anyway –iceberg, and looked ready to leap into his arms.

He didn't. But when the unusual duo of a stunned Germany and seething Romano passed him, he caught up to them, walking so close to the blonde that their arms brushed.

Every touch was electrifying. The taller man's heart fluttered in excitement and gratitude overpowering his insecurities.

Perhaps, coming here wasn't such a bad idea after all?

oOo

The estate was incredible. It was a bit further outside of the city, where the landscape consisted of sizeable hills. A wide stone path led from the impressive gate up to the villa. The main building itself was big and old, but rather well-maintained, although it was impossible to deny its age. The beautifully arched tall portico in front of the main entrance – which reminded Ludwig of ancient roman structures – embraced a large courtyard, lush with green vegetation. A considerable amount of land belonged to the manor as well, consisting of orchards of different fruit bearing trees, vineyards, and a lot of smaller buildings. Sheds, storehouses, wine cellars, and Germany was completely astonished, when he noticed that there were living quarters as well, as many people busied themselves around the estate. He saw men carrying baskets with fruits, women hanging laundry, children running around chasing some chickens. Others were tending to the gardens. Life was thriving.

Drifting in and out of amazement Germany barely noticed that he was already in the building, in a guestroom dedicated to him. He also barely noticed that the Italy siblings have disappeared somewhere, and his only companion was a young girl in her late teens, who seemed to be a maid of some sort and right now, his personal guide as well.

"Signore."

Germany flinched, for the first time truly realizing that he was left alone. He looked at the girl timidly. "Si…?"

Ugh… Italian language wasn't his forte, and now more than ever he could feel the barrier standing in front of him tall and wide and difficult to overcome. Damn! He should have asked Italy to teach him more when he still had the chance. But back then he was too preoccupied and too stupid and-

Never mind! There was no point dwelling on that right now, he just had to manage somehow.

Turning back to the girl, Ludwig tried to give her his best smile, and flash his almost non-existent language skills, but quite obviously he was failing. Miserably.

The girl supressed a soft chuckle.

"It's okay, I speak English," she said with a thick and heavy accent.

Germany's cheeks bloomed in embarrassment. "Ah…"

The girl smiled again. "Dinner will be ready shortly, someone will come and fetch you." She started rummaging around the commode drawers, pulling out towels. "Meanwhile, feel free to refresh yourself. The bathroom is just at the end of the corridor."

Smoothing out the bedding and doing some final adjustments, the young maid turned around and left him on his own.

Ludwig looked after her retreating form in daze.

He was left alone. Again. Just like in that crowd at the market. The only difference was that, funnily enough, he felt even more lost here than there.

Just what was he to do? The feeling of not being entirely welcome – Romano's menacing aura for sure – mixed with curiosity and the strong wish to be here, and see Italy again. Germany was conflicted. His mind told him that the proper thing to do would be to thank the hospitality but decline and find another place to stay. Romano clearly did this because he was forced, not because he wanted to. But on the other hand, Ludwig really wanted to stay. Wanted to see Italy. To speak to him. To apologise properly. After so many years, he still couldn't do it. Oh, he apologised, countless times, but it still wasn't enough! He just wanted to see Italy happy again.

But, of course, it was his fault. He kept his distance, wanting to rebuild himself, find his new place in this post-war Europe, and let the other nation do the same. It took him long years, but Italy never complained. And now he was supposed to be ready but-

The anxious dreams, the fear of losing himself once more, the fear of hurting Italy… It was keeping him back.

He was a coward. Gilbert would surely hit him for this. And Germany could almost see his brother standing in front of him, ruby eyes flashing with disappointment as handsome features contorted into a frown, and heard him saying _'So not awesome, West'_.

Truly pathetic.

That's what he was.

Ludwig shook his head, and reached after a fluffy towel.

He mustn't let himself procrastinate any more. Gilbert would be angry and disappointed, and honestly that was something Germany didn't wish for anyone. Even though they were separated right now and forced to live far apart, his brother's ire was a force to reckon with. Germany shuddered at the memories from his childhood flashing up in his mind. Prussia's education was strict but loving, and Ludwig didn't screw up things too often, but when it occasionally happened… It wasn't the anger that he feared. It was the dissatisfaction in those sparkly, gem like orbs that he hated the most.

He didn't want to fail. He owed that to Gilbert. Owed that to Italy. To Romano as well. It was time to finally pull himself together and have a proper conversation with both of them, but especially Italy, and apologise in a way that's appropriate. That will satisfy him, too.

Yes! That's what he will do! Tonight, during dinner they will have a proper discussion and Germany will finally do, what was long overdue anyway!

oOo

Clean, refreshed and prepared for anything, Germany was ready for the upcoming conversation. It wasn't going to be easy, especially gaining Romano's forgiveness, but he would persevere.

Or at least, that was the plan.

But things rarely went according to plans.

Dinner was nothing like he imagined. Firstly, it wasn't even a dinner. It looked more like a feast, or a festival. Three long tables were set up in the back garden, all covered in red and white checkered tablecloths. It wasn't completely dark yet, but colourful lanterns decorated the place, and a bonfire was started a bit further away as well. Some people were already sitting around the tables, others were bringing food and wine, all in amounts that seemed to be impossible to consume. Kids ran around, an older women chasing them and reprimanding. Men laughed, the sound of music accompanied their joyful mood.

Germany was in shock. Again.

What the hell was that!? Just what the actual-…

"You seem to be surprised, mi amigo."

Ludwig flinched. At this point nothing surprised him anymore, and Spain's presence wasn't actually that unusual either. The southern nation was always around Romano, - whether the other wanted it or not - and it seemed no insult and bodily harm could discourage the man. Actually, Germany was a little glad that he wasn't completely alone and there was a familiar face sitting next to him. He hasn't seen Italy or Romano in quite a while now.

The dark haired nation smiled at him, and offered a glass of wine, which the blonde accepted but held in his hand, refraining from taking a sip just yet. "You seem to be bothered."

"I'm just confused," Germany admitted, looking around the crowd. "What's going on, and who are these people?"

Spain followed his gaze. Lips pulling upwards a bit, he sipped from his glass and hummed.

"La familia," he started softy.

"You mean the mafia."

Spain gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Ah, I can't deny that some of them have connections… But it's not like you think." The empty glass clinked on the table as the man put it down. Someone immediately turned up with a new bottle, and a basket of freshly baked bread. Spain thanked it quickly before turning back to the blonde. "These people here are the Italy siblings' family."

Germany balked.

"But aren't these people humans? I thought nations only start close relationships with other nations."

"The majority of us doesn't mingle with humans, you're right about that."

Spain's expression changed as he leaned forward, pouring himself another glass of wine, but ignoring it after all. His usual silly and cheerful self was nowhere to be seen. He was serious. Dark eyes shining in the dancing fire, reflecting centuries of history and wisdom.

Germany rarely saw the man like this. Actually, he wasn't sure he has ever seen him like that, and for a moment he was worried if he said or did something to offend the older man. But when Spain started talking again, his voice was quiet, features smooth and melancholic. "The reason why we avoid relationships with our children is because they don't live as long as we do. If you love someone, you don't want to see them die. But it's not like it's forbidden."

"So, are they just pretending? It's like playing house-"

BAM!

Germany recoiled, when a hand descended on the table with enough force to rattle the utensil.

"It's nothing like that!"

Spain's sudden outburst was so shocking and out of character that the blonde was almost ready mentally preparing himself for a punch to his face. It never came, but the southern nation's hard gaze sent chills down his spine.

The older shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I overreacted." The smile was back and a little apologetic laugh followed it too, as the man reached after his glass and leaned back in his seat. "Let me explain."

Germany nodded, accepting the apology and urging the other to continue.

"No matter the time and era, there were always people around nations. Aside from our bosses, there were politicians, advisors, secretaries or servants… Their name changes, but ultimately their role was to help us as much as they could. But we southern nations value familial bonds above all. I think it's something we inherited from Grandpa Rome. Especially Romano..." Spain's eyes softened, and he quickly skimmed the crowd looking for the southern sibling, who was carrying a crate of wine bottles and amicably talking to one of the men helping him out. Germany was speechless seeing the usually grumpy and guarded man so openly cheerful. "These people you see here," Spain continued suddenly, "are the descendants of those servants who were taking care of the siblings from the times of Rome. They are part of the Italy brothers' household. They live here, and serve them willingly, generation after generation."

_Huh…?_

Germany was baffled.

His grip on the wine glass shook for a moment, as the words slowly registered in his brain. They left him uncomfortable. What Spain told him went against everything he knew so far.

The idea was just too foreign. Why would anyone want that? Why would nations subjugate themselves to the pain of loss over and over again? Why would one family serve someone for so long? Germany just couldn't understand it. He, too, valued familial bonds. Gilbert was his everything! No matter how bad their relationship turned, the white haired man always remained his brother. And Ludwig knew, that in the future as well, no matter what happens, they would always be brothers. But Gilbert wasn't going anywhere. Even if they were separated right now, Germany firmly believed, that at some point in the future they would be reunited again. But to watch your family die over and over…

It was difficult to comprehend.

And it had to show on his face, too, because when he looked up at Spain, after gazing into his glass absentmindedly for the last few minutes, there was this annoying little knowing smirk on the other's face.

"They are doing it out of love and devotion," he said. "These people love their country. That's how they show their gratitude for everything their homeland did for them. And Italy, both Romano and Veneziano, will do anything to guarantee a safe and prosperous life for the future generations. I guess being appreciated motivates one just that much more…"

"But isn't this painful?"

The question slipped out of his mouth faster than he could comprehend it. And Germany chided himself internally, because of course it had to be painful, besides it was an inconsiderate thing to ask.

But Spain just shook his head lightly. "Romano and Veneziano are stronger than you think."

Ah…

He heard that already. Once Gilbert told him that underestimating Italy was a foolish move. Italy was strong, not physically, but he was strong in a different way. Ludwig didn't understand it back then. But now, after so many things that happened, he could see it for himself, as well. It was difficult to explain, but there definitely was something. A strength, intangible but undeniably existing.

Was this that Gilbert referred to?

Possibly.

The smell of food wafting through the air, however, stopped him from contemplating this matter any further. His stomach rumbled hungrily, and he quenched his thirst by finally sipping from his glass, too. The wine was fruity and easy to drink. The light of the dancing fire broke on its surface casting ruby shadows onto the table. Chairs scraped the stone, utensils and plates clattered. Dinner was being served.

Soup, pasta, salad, bread and cheese, meats and fruits; it was a spread. Ludwig didn't even know where to start as the same girl who helped him earlier put yet another dish on the table. Everything looked delicious, and he hesitated, not being sure where to start.

Spain on the other hand boldly served himself from everything that was in an arm's reach, his pleasurable hums feeding Ludwig's appetite that much more. He finally opted for a simple, rustic pasta dish, mainly because he recognized it as something that Italy cooked for him earlier. And as the first bite hit his tongue, exploding in a million of earthy and herby flavours, Germany almost choked on a muffled sob.

God, he missed this so much!

It was delicious. Spicy and sweet and true home cooking; and it tasted like sunshine and happiness and Italy. It was his dish. It was definitely his doing!

"Signore, is everything okay?"

Ludwig flinched as he looked up, cheeks turning a rosy shade, embarrassed for reacting in such way. He waved dismissively, covering his shameful tears of delight with the same motion.

"Yes, it's delicious."

"Signore?"

"No, really," Germany reassured the girl. "It's Italy's cooking, isn't it? He made it himself."

The girl's features lit up with a bright smile. "Si! The Little Boss made it himself!"

A blonde eyebrow rose curiously, "Little Boss?"

"She means Veneziano," Spain explained between two bites. "Romano is the Big Boss, Veneziano the Little. Makes sense."

Ludwig hummed. The food and wine were too tempting to get into an argument about how these names sounded like mafia titles. Not like it wasn't fitting. Besides, there was no nation on this wretched globe who didn't have at least some connections to the underground world. Even America with his hero complex; the prohibition era was an interesting one for him, too. And Germany especially didn't have the right to criticise anyone. So he remained silent.

Well, as silent as one could get being at the Italy siblings' house, at a feast of a dinner, with Spain as a dining partner. Not like the blonde man minded, because for the first time in long years he finally felt at ease and relaxed.

And as the night progressed, and the never ending supply of food finally started to diminish, Germany developed a positive buzz.

He tapped along with his foot to the music and watched with amazement as people started dancing and singing.

Italy waved at him from the other table, smile shining brighter than the bonfire, and his curl bobbing in the soft breeze. He looked happy. Ludwig watched him with sentimental fondness, completely blaming the mysterious fluttering and fuzzy feeling in his stomach on the wine. He shouldn't have been drinking this much. But it felt good. Oh whatever! Today was a strange day, anyway.

However, as much as Germany wanted to, they didn't really had the opportunity to talk yet. The smaller nation was busy with helping out in the kitchen, besides, Romano didn't let him out of his sight. Ludwig shook his head lightly. Being protective was one thing, but Romano was overdoing it.

But now! Now was finally the opportunity. Germany's booze clouded mind was ready to act. He was fully determined to walk over to the other, but even before being able to make a single move he was stopped. Luckily, of course, because on second thought, even in this slightly inebriated state he knew that right now was not the appropriate time after all.

The flock of people that hid Italy from his sight came seemingly out of nowhere. Mainly women, but there were men, too, saying something, urging the other to… Ugh, Ludwig wasn't sure what they wanted exactly. But as the little crowed moved he could see Italy being pulled towards the dance floor, and based on the angry string of curses from a bit further away, Romano was getting the same treatment. Soon, both of them were standing next to each other in the circle of clasping and excited people.

Germany's wine-fogged mind had difficulties comprehending what was going on. What on Earth were they doing? But when he noticed Spain standing amongst the musicians with an acoustic guitar in his hand, – just how did the man get there without him realising that he left, was a mystery that Ludwig would blame on the alcohol again – his jaw hit the table.

Oh, so that's what was going on.

Romano's tomato red face turned towards the laughing man. "You bastard! I knew it! It's your doing!"

"Come on, Romanito! Boss knows that you like dancing."

"Fuck you!"

The crowed giggled, and if it was possible Romano turned an even darker shade of crimson. It seemed there was no escape from this situation. Germany sympathised with the Southern sibling just a tiny bit, when he finally managed to compose himself after snickering together with the crowd. Families could be scary sometimes.

"Fratello?" Italy's timid, questioning gaze had to be the last push, because the older brother groaned.

"Fucking fine! But only one dance!"

People cheered. Spain's guitar sang, and music started playing, filling the air with traditional, fiery and temperamental rhythms. The siblings moved in unison, like well-choreographed professional dancers. Hips rotated seductively, hands created intricate patterns in the air, and boots clinked along to the music as they twirled around each other in a dance that was gorgeous and captivating. Like birds flying in the sky freely, that's how they moved on the small dance floor creating space in places where there seemingly was none. And as they bent and jumped and twisted around, their bodies glowing with a numinous light, Ludwig couldn't help but think that Italy, both Veneziano and Romano, were the embodiment of love and freedom. Inexhaustible life force and vitality was running through their veins like rivers through their fertile lands rich in culture and history.

Italy was beautiful.

Yes, Romano, too, especially now that he didn't have that grumpy expression on his face; he was handsome, and Ludwig completely understood why was Spain stubbornly sticking to the other. But Italy…_ His _Italy, his friend, his _saviour…_ Germany couldn't get enough of the sight. A mesmerising, cheerful sprite. That's how the other looked to him. And he wondered how could he not see this before during all those long years they spent together?

His tapping foot halted in the air.

_Gilbert knew it all along_, Ludwig realised suddenly.

His brother tried to tell him this so many times, but he never listened, refusing to see what was in front of his eyes. But Gilbert and Italy had a special relationship. A kind that was difficult to label. They were incredibly close; knowing each other for centuries was one reason of course. And they were not as close as Ludwig and Gilbert were, but sometimes… Ah, it's not like Germany ever questioned their relationship, though. Gilbert loved him, and he loved Gilbert more than anything and anyone in this world. And Italy was special for him, too, although he couldn't quite explain in what way was the bubbly little nation special. But he wasn't jealous, not really. And even when he was, it was mostly because Italy knew a side of his brother that Germany didn't. And vice versa Gilbert knew a side of Italy that was a complete mystery to him, too. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure, who he was jealous of.

The music suddenly stopped, breaking the magical spell as well. The bittersweet thoughts and memories flew away with the last notes of the humming strings. Germany was back, sitting at the table alone, the reality of his situation crashing down on him with suffocating heaviness. The pleasant buzz of the wine was gone as well.

Seriously, just what the hell was he thinking, anyway?

He shouldn't be here, eating and drinking and having fun, while there was so much work to do at home! He shouldn't be here, while Gilbert-

Tsk! It couldn't be helped.

It was their punishment. His punishment. For everything what he did.

Gilbert, of course, blamed himself as well, wanting to share in the punishment and pain. Wanting to atone for sins that Ludwig was reluctant to accept. Because Prussia had no say in the matter, it was all Germany's fault. It was his responsibility. Yet Gilbert-

He never abandoned him. Despite putting his brother through all that horrible shit, despite depriving him of his government and power, despite forcing him to commit heinous crimes, Gilbert never abandoned him.

And he couldn't even properly apologise; they parted so suddenly.

And probably that was one of the main reasons why he was keeping his distance from Italy, too. Why he never apologised properly yet. Because he couldn't do it to the most precious person in his life either. Not now at least, and Ludwig sort of wanted to have his priorities straight but…

He owed Italy too much. He owed Italy his sanity, his current life. Ludwig had no idea how the bubbly nation did it, but it was an indisputable fact that if not for him, then his current situation could be very different, and not in a good way.

And the clock was ticking, years have already passed, there was no time for procrastination. Right now was a good opportunity to start. But without the pleasant buzz of the wine Ludwig wasn't that brave anymore.

How lame. Gilbert would definitely call this behaviour "unawesome".

And it truly was just that.

But maybe it was better this way after all. If they got too close, if he'd ever lose himself again… It was better not to risk it. Of course apologising was still high on his agenda, but what came after that was rather uncertain. And he had no right destroying this pleasant atmosphere anyway.

Tomorrow then.

Germany nodded to himself approvingly.

It was decided. Tomorrow he would find a chance to speak to the brothers but for now it was time to retreat. He had more than enough fun, more than it was allowed, more than he deserved! And Ludwig was eternally grateful that, even if only for a couple of hours, he could enjoy himself freely.

With a heavy sigh he pushed himself to a standing position and headed towards the main building. There was no reason hiding his departure; his steps were muffled by the music, and the cheerful humming of people anyway. The dancing started once more, this time others joining the nations, too.

He sauntered through the empty corridors of the old mansion half dazed from tiredness and the delicious dinner, and half dazed from all the roiling feelings inside him. It was time for bed. With everything that happened that day, he really needed a good sleep.

But while walking past an open balcony door, the sweet scent of summer night tickling his nose, Ludwig caught a glimpse of a laughing Italy twirling with a young and beautiful woman between his arms. He was drawn to the picture immediately. Stepping outside, and leaning on the balustrade lazily, he watched from above as the merriment continued.

His chest squeezed for a moment.

Despite knowing how audacious it was, he wished to be there. Wished to make Italy laugh like that all the time. Wished to be happy himself….

Argh, just what was he thinking of!?

It's not like he was unhappy per se. Days at work were peaceful, and he was rebuilding himself steadily. Sure, atrocities always happened but in general everything was okay. But to enjoy his time to the fullest… That was not allowed, or rather Germany didn't allow himself that pleasure. But seeing his former comrade moving on and enjoying life yet again made him want to take the next step, too.

He exhaled deep and exhausted. Coming here messed with his mind too much. How could he move forward without Gilbert? The man was his brother, his lover, his other half! And Italy… Although the older nation forgave him there was still so much apologising to do!

He shook his head frustrated.

There was no point overthinking this! First came the apology. And then-

Baby steps. Everything else came in baby steps. There was no need rushing, especially when one had no idea of the destination.

Sparkling blue eyes skimmed the merry crowd instinctively searching for a bobbing chestnut curl.

By now Italy got surrounded by a group of kids, laughing and clasping, chanting something in their language. The blonde understood it this time, even with his basic knowledge: they wanted the other to dance. Ludwig's gaze softened; he really wanted to see Italy dance again, too. That's why, when he realised that the dancing was nothing more just spinning around with the children, he almost winced, disappointment lacing the gesture. Yet he couldn't supress the goofy smile pulling at his lips either. It wasn't what he expected, but watching Italy having fun with the brats was actually rather entertaining.

"Wipe that disgusting smile off of your face Potato Bastard!"

Germany flinched startled, heart skipping a beat or two as he spun around on his heels.

Romano's ever-irritated voice cut through the balsamic air of the night like a double edged sword. He was standing in the balcony door. Hazel bore into sapphire orbs mercilessly. "Your ugly expression is making me sick."

Averting his gaze embarrassed, the blonde stuttered, "Ah, I-I'm sorry…"

Crap! Romano was the last person Germany wanted to see right now. Sure, the plan was to mend their relationship somehow, too, but definitely not like this, cornered, alone, and without the support and calming presence of Italy…

Just how much of a wuss he was sometimes, Ludwig couldn't believe it! But as it was, he couldn't face the older Mediterranean sibling right now.

Pushing himself away from the railing he shuffled towards the door awkwardly. "I better go now… Sorry to bothe-"

"Where are you going Potato Bastard?"

He halted, lips parting in surprize, not expecting a question like that, and definitely not expecting the other to stand in his way. Yet, for whatever reason Romano was blocking his path, his frowning features mixing with clear annoyance and something that was difficult to define. "If you're already staying here, you should at least have the decency to thank your host properly, and have a glass of wine together, ass-face."

The gears in the blonde head stopped for a moment.

_Wait, what…? _

"You… Want to have a _drink_…?" Germany deadpanned.

Romano just walked past him nonchalantly, placing two glasses and a bottle of wine with a soft clink on the top of the balcony's ornamental parapet.

"What? Are you gonna refuse my invitation?"

Germany gulped. That was a threat, not a question. And Ludwig straightened himself immediately, turning towards the older nation, "No! Of course not! And thank you for your hospitality."

For a moment there was no answer, Romano's scrutinising gaze held him captive with such intensity that Germany was scared to move. Or breathe for that matter. But the man suddenly nodded, and turned back to the bottle, opening it with a low pop.

The relieved exhale that ripped from the blonde's chest was like finally breaking the surface of cold water and breathing for the first time. He was not a person who got intimidated easily, but Romano's explosive nature and prideful overprotectiveness of his brother and people Germany just couldn't ignore. It was admirable in a way. And a total pain in the ass, too, Ludwig admitted begrudgingly. But right now what scared him the most, – well, maybe not _scared_ but left him really, really, really uncomfortable – was the Mediterranean nation's eccentric attitude.

Why would he want to share a drink? Why right now, when up till this moment Romano tried to avoid him like a plague? What has changed? So many questions! So many unexplained things! Germany was dumbfounded and confused, yet somehow it still felt right. It was actually rather familiar, and the blonde almost snorted in amusement at the sudden realisation.

Romano was just as capricious as Italy was. And by this point the blonde learned to just roll with it.

The ghost of a smile that formed on plump lips at that thought didn't go unnoticed by the southern nation either.

"What's so funny Potato Bastard?"

Germany blinked. "How you and your brother are so similar to each other," he said without thinking.

Romano froze, and the air on the balcony froze with him. The stifling pressure of the glare that Germany received made him almost choke again. This carelessness would be the death of him.

But just as quickly as it came, the icy aura lessened and Romano turned back to his previous task.

"Tsk! I'm nothing like that cry-baby," he grumbled noncommittally, as he poured a small amount of wine to each glass and handed one to the blonde. "Here, taste it!"

Ludwig reached after it automatically. He swished the ruby liquid gently a couple of times before lifting it to his nose to have a sniff. The aroma was strong and fruity, and when he took a sip all the flavours hidden in the exquisite nectar exploded on his tongue. It was a full-bodied, dry taste, rich in spices with the aftertaste of summer fruits. Completely different from all those wines that Italy made him try. Those were crisp and easy to drink, lighter in tone. Those wines were just like Italy, bright and cheerful and rather sweet. But this… It was a heavier drink, requiring a more mature taste. Not sweet, but not too tart either. It was Romano. This wine was everything that made the Southern Italian sibling unique.

Maybe the man was right after all; Italy and Romano were nothing like each other, yet Germany couldn't shake the feeling that the two of them were more alike than it could seem initially.

The rest of the drink slid down effortlessly and when he finished, Romano reached for his glass to pour some more.

"How did you like it?" he asked, placing everything back on the balcony's parapet.

"Superb. It's your own wine, isn't it?"

The older man smiled, sending chills down the blonde's spine. "I see my little brother taught you well. Now then…"

Ludwig didn't have time to prepare. He didn't even see it coming. No. There was no reason to even assume that something like this would ever happen!

Romano's small fist connecting with his jaw didn't hurt that much as it could have. Granted, his lip was still bleeding and he recoiled, losing his footing, hitting the balustrade with his back painfully. That would surely bruise later.

But it wasn't the pain that paralysed him, it was the shock.

Germany's brain functions screeched into a halt. His hand pressed to the bleeding lip automatically. Blue eyes widening in disbelief, he watched as Romano clutched his hurting knuckles and spun around his axis as if that would alleviate the pain somehow, accompanied by a flashy string of curses.

"The fuck…! What is your ass-face made of Potato Bastard? Fucking concrete_!? ShitCazzoDammit_…!"

Ludwig blinked. His mouth opened to say something, but he remained silent. What the hell was he meant to say anyway? His numb body started regaining its senses but mind was still blank.

Just what-? Why…?

"Here, Potato Bastard, drink."

Ludwig flinched. The other was standing just in front him, holding a full glass of wine, offering up for the taking. His knuckles were bleeding slightly. Germany reached for it, fingers instinctively sliding onto the cool surface. Romano nodded, and took a step back, leaning comfortably against the balustrade, elbows resting on the top of it as he watched the merry crowd sing and dance underneath them.

Germany's flabbergasted mind only very slowly turned. "What…?"

"It's payback," Romano answered the unfinished question, "For what you did to my fratello in Nurnberg." He took a sip of the ruby liquid, then hopped on the top of the parapet to sit more comfortably. "I wanted to slug you right then, but your brother was quicker. Quite honestly, I didn't expect him to do it…"

Germany's brain finally kicked in.

Now it made sense! Of course Romano would want to hit him, Germany wanted to hit himself as well. When he finally regained his senses and realised what have happened, what he did to Italy… All what he wanted to do was to crawl into a hole and die. And when Gilbert hit him… He expected more than just that one blow. He deserved much, much more!

He deserved this punch from Romano, too. Actually, now that they had this behind them, he felt much more at ease around the temperamental nation. The other seemed less hostile as well.

And as the pain in his jaw started to lessen, Ludwig's lips pulled into a small smile.

"Ah, I guess I deserved it."

"Damn right you did, Bastard!" Romano scooted to the side, offering a place for the blonde next to himself. Germany accepted the offer, taking a seat on the balcony's parapet, too. "Just so you know, I still don't like you."

Ludwig nodded. "I know. I respect that."

They raised their glasses almost at the same time, clinking them together instead of a handshake. Romano grinned. Ludwig did, too. It was a peace treaty, on both sides. They didn't have to like each other, but at least the stifling hostility was gone, and as Germany took a long sip of the wine, he could feel the pressure ease up around them.

This was nice. The older looked content, as well.

The silence that enveloped the balcony was surprisingly mellow. Ludwig enjoyed the fresh and warm air, the great wine, the music, and he looked at the merry crowed, eyes searching for that characteristic curl with a nostalgic fondness.

Ah, if everything in life would be as easy as this!

He felt great, and watching Italy running in circles with the kids just added to his jovial mood. Lips pulled upwards.

"You're smirking again," Romano commented, brown eyes darting, following the blue gaze. "It's creepy as fuck. What? Do you have a crush on my stupid fratello?"

Ba-dump!

Germany chocked on the wine, accidentally spluttering some, too, eliciting a low growl from his drinking partner. Such a waste! But the question came completely out of nowhere.

Just what was Romano suggesting in the first place? Ludwig having a crush!? No way!

"You- you're misunderstanding!" The blonde waved dismissively, cheeks turning a violent shade of pink. "I don't love Italy. No! I mean, I lo- love him, but… uhm… Not in a weird way or anything…"

God, compared to how nice the atmosphere was just a moment ago, this was becoming so humiliating and uncomfortable! Romano's stony expression didn't help it either, and Germany suddenly wished to be anywhere else but here after all. And it was so nice just a moment ago!

But the most annoying thing was his own reaction. Why was he even explaining himself!? As if he had done something wrong. He didn't do anything! He loved Italy and he loved him dearly, but not in a way the other has suggested. Besides, he had Gilbert-

Ludwig's internal tirade screeched into a halt.

Then again, Gilbert and Italy had a rather special relationship, too… Germany could never fully comprehend it. If he wanted to be really honest, - and he wanted because deceiving himself was stupid anyway and a luxury he could not allow himself to indulge in – he was always sort of, maybe just a tiny bit jealous of the two. Despite the fact, that he knew there was no reason.

Gilbert wasn't a sentimental person. He didn't go around declaring his undying love, fawning over his lover, showering with gifts and compliments. Not like Ludwig expected him to do it in the first place. Their relationship was more like a partnership. They were each other's other halves, they belonged together, and sure, on rare occasions Gilbert could be sweet but ultimately the man was a possessive creature. And the blonde never minded that because that's just how his brother was, and he never doubted his feelings. But with Italy…

He was different with Italy. He was more compassionate. More unguarded. He was really protective of the little nation.

And Ludwig felt sort of… He wasn't sure. Their friendship was hundreds of years old. They knew each other since –

He wasn't even sure how long actually. And it annoyed him because sometimes it felt as if he was left out. And yet again, the most infuriating thing was that he couldn't even decide who he was jealous of! He wanted and craved Gilbert's love and approval, and he needed Italy's cheerful and loving attention. He was a hopeless, selfish bastard. He didn't deserve any of that. Yet he desired it nevertheless. Such audacity!

Romano's piercing gaze burned his skin. He seemed unimpressed. "Weird way, huh?" he snorted. "Why? Is my brother not good enough for ya?"

Blue eyes dilated in comical fashion.

_What? Not good…?_

The wine glass almost slipped out from between his sweaty fingers as his hand shook just slightly, cheeks turning definitely blazing red this time.

"Wait… No! I mean… It's-… argh…That is…"

"Is it because he is weak?" The older nation cut in. "Cowardly? A cry baby? Useless?"

Germany shook his head.

Cornered. He was completely cornered.

"I never said that!"

"Admit it! You thought that at least once at some point!"

Teeth clinked as lips pursed together, embarrassed, silencing the blonde. Whatever he wanted to say before was now forgotten.

He wouldn't deny it. Everything what Romano said, he thought that at some point, too. But it was decades ago, before he had the chance to get to know the smaller nation that well yet. Sure, Italy was weak, at least in a traditional physical sense. But he possessed a different type of strength. Was he cowardly? Yes, but when it mattered he was there, even if he was useless sometimes and he cried a lot, he was there for him. When the world seemed to fall apart, he was there to save him. After Gilbert, Italy was always the one to be around and support him in his own way.

That's why Romano's accusatory words hit so hard. Because Germany was guilty and he hated to admit that.

The blonde lowered his eyes and sighed, the burning feeling of shame slithering through his chest, gripping painfully, demanding the truth.

"I… I did think that once," Ludwig said finally. "I could never understand how someone like Italy could be the Roman Empire's heir. But I was wrong. He might not be the strongest, but his kindness brings the people around him together."

Yes. That was exactly it. After so many years he finally started to understand that strange, intangible type of strength that Italy possessed. It suited him so well, too. Even if it was bothersome sometimes, even if Italy was a cyclone stirring up his life completely, even if he was a total pain in the ass, Ludwig wouldn't change a single thing about him. Italy was perfect just the way he was, with all of his imperfections.

The warm, gushy feeling spreading in his chest slowly like sweet treacle made the blonde seek the little nation with his eyes once more. Even in the middle of the crowd his radiance and vibrancy was so obvious that it was impossible to miss it. He was the beating heart of Life. Germany couldn't help being drawn to the other. Pink lips pulled into a smile again. God, he missed him so much! He lov-

"Who told you that?"

Rudely roused from his thoughts the man blinked, as a strange sense of loss gripped at his throat and chest for losing this last thought.

"I'm sorry…?"

"Who told you that Italy is Grandpa Rome's heir?"

"Ah… I just assumed. I mean, I know that the two of you together-"

"You're wrong."

"Sorry?"

"You're wrong," Romano repeated again. There was something strange in his voice, as if a certain degree of disbelief mixed with his usually snappy temperament. Ludwig didn't know what to think of it.

"What do you mean?"

The older nation's quizzical look uncomfortably churned at his stomach. There was no sarcasm or annoyance in the hazel orbs, and that made the whole conversation even more disturbing.

"Didn't you know?" the Mediterranean man started. "Italy was never meant to be the heir. Neither me for that matter…" He paused for a moment, piercing and fiery gaze boring into azure pools of diamond challengingly. "It's always been you."

The wine glass shook violently, clinking loudly as it was put down on the top of the balustrade before it slipped out from between shaky fingers. Germany's breath hitched, the world turning upside down for a moment.

"M-Me?"

Romano took a sip of his wine before answering, eyes never leaving the other. "Well… Not you exactly. It was Holy Rome. But technically you're the same."

"Wha-…Me? What do you m- mean?"

"You really didn't know? I can't believe that fucking Old Potato Bastard kept it secret even from you!"

"Prussia? He…?"

"Knew that you were once Holy Rome?" The man snorted, finishing the question instead of the blonde. "Of course he did. Don't be so naïve."

The merciless truth that Romano's words held was undeniable. There was no reason doubting it. Besides, why would the older nation lie about something like that in the first place? But most importantly, even before the shaking in his hands started to fade and his jumbled thoughts made sense again, Ludwig just knew that it was correct. Deep down he could feel it.

And when he calmed down enough to think through it logically, it indeed, made perfect sense.

His earliest memory was seeing Prussia on the battlefield but he couldn't exactly associate a timeframe with it. If he trusted his gut feeling it was early nineteenth century. But after that there was a massive gap, and in the next moment he was already the man's younger brother. He remembered waking up, and seeing Prussia for the first time; he remembered not recognising him, and then being given a name… He _was given_ a name! And now it all made sense! He should have noticed that earlier.

Tsk! How shamefully blind could one be?

Germany sighed, long and tired, and feeling more frustrated than shocked. He reached after his glass, hands steady as rock this time, and took a sip from the ruby nectar. It still tasted amazing. The music was still loud, the air warm and balsamic. And he still longed for Gilbert, sought Italy with his eyes and was wary of Romano. Nothing has changed. Everything was the same.

"Are you okay?" the Mediterranean nation asked more out of curiosity than worry.

Ludwig nodded, "Yeah. I just feel really stupid. I should've realised this ages ago."

Romano just hummed, "Well, you are stupid after all…"

The jibe was half-hearted. Didn't cut deep. The older Italian sibling being a mean prick was something Ludwig already had time to get used to. Besides, in this case he really was stupid and ignorant. It annoyed the hell out of him, too, because he sort of prided himself of having good analytical skills and being perceptive, but somehow it didn't matter after all. His past didn't matter. It changed nothing.

"You're surprisingly calm about it." The drink in Romano's hand tilted dangerously as he swished the blood coloured liquid looking at Germany from above the rim of the delicate piece of glass with prying, searching eyes. It was difficult to say what he expected. Shouts? Shock? Tears? Probably all of it, but Ludwig felt rather calm.

"Hm… It seems I am. I think subconsciously I always knew it. Or something like that," the blonde answered sheepishly. "Is that wrong?

The older sighed and shook his head lightly.

"No. You are who you are. I just wanted to see your stupidly shocked and confused face," he added with a pout.

God, so predictable! But in a way it was reassuring, and Ludwig's lips pulled into a lopsided grin. Yes, nothing has changed. He was who he was. Whether Gilbert had good reasons to hide his past or not ultimately didn't matter. If it didn't change his relationships with-…

Did it not, though?

With Gilbert probably not, but what about Italy? Did he even know?

A strange uneasiness slithered through the blonde's stomach. Historically Italy and Holy Rome were close to each other. He remembered reading about it in his books. So what if… No, no. Surely it wouldn't make a difference. Besides, if Romano knew it then Italy had to be aware of it, too.

"Does anyone else know about it?" He couldn't stop himself. He had to know, just to ease his mind.

But the answer failed to come, and for a moment Germany thought that maybe it was something that he shouldn't have asked; maybe he finally managed to piss the older man off completely. However, when he looked up cautiously and a bit wary of the other's reaction, Romano seemed to be genuinely thinking about how to answer.

"I can't say for sure," he started, "I think those nations who knew Holy Rome would recognize him in you easily."

"Why has no one ever said anything?"

"Because it doesn't matter." This time the response was quick. "You're just a Potato Freak. Whether you knew your past or not, whether someone made you aware of it or not, makes no difference. Germany is Germany. I guess the Old Potato didn't tell you anything so you could start clean… That's rather mature and thoughtful of him… Tsk! Fucking annoying..."

The incoherent grumbling continued for a while but Germany didn't pay attention to it, being more preoccupied with searching for Italy in the crowd. He was nowhere to be seen, however, and his mind panicked for a moment. If something happened to him-…

No. That was impossible. Italy was at home, surrounded by his family. Ludwig was just overreacting. Habits from _those_ times. Right now things were mostly peaceful, there was no imminent danger, and the little nation was definitely not under any kind of threat. Unless food induced coma counted as one. But the blonde still felt uneasy. Whether he was worried for the man's safety or for the state of their fragile relationship, it was difficult to tell. Or maybe, he was just entirely spoiled and selfishly wanted to bask in the other's company. Whatever it was, he was a complete and utter moron.

Germany sighed and combed through his hair with a tense motion. He criticised Romano for being overprotective, but he was doing exactly the same.

"You worry too much."

Blonde head snapped towards the other. Crap! He got discovered! Was he really that easy to read?

He expected Romano to mock him for this, ridicule or have a snide comment ready but nothing like that occurred. Instead, the older man uncrossed his slender legs, and grabbing the bottle leaned forward pouring some more wine into both of their glasses. Ludwig watched the ruby liquid sparkle in the light of the bonfire and multitude of lanterns hanging around the place cast colourful shadows on the southern nation's face. He looked young. Younger than Germany remembered, not that he paid that much attention to the man in the first place. But for whatever reason right now, with this almost gentle expression on his face he resembled Italy much more than ever before.

And probably that was the only reason why he dared to ask, "Aren't you gonna make fun of me?"

He instantly regretted it, when Romano's dark orbs bore into his with unconcealed disgust.

"Don't tempt me, Potato Freak. The only reason I'm holding back is because that idiot brother of mine loves you," he said gloomily. Nevertheless, he did offer another drink, raising his glass encouragingly and taking a long sip. Germany followed his example, not wanting to offend him, and well… For the simple reason that the wine was rather exquisite, actually. "Anyway," Romano continued suddenly, "you don't have to be worried about Veneziano. Your past doesn't matter to him."

"He knew it all along."

"He is not stupid-…"

"I know that," Ludwig cut him off immediately. He did think that Italy was airheaded sometimes. Well, often. But he never really thought him to be stupid. Possibly a bit naïve, but definitely not stupid.

Romano's scrutinizing gaze kept him captive for a moment nevertheless, but it seemed the man found his words convincing enough, because after a while he downed the contents of his glass and hopped off the balustrade, stretching his muscles, joints popping satisfactorily.

"It's getting late. I'll better go and find Spain before he does something stupid again," he said, announcing his departure and walking towards the balcony door. There were no niceties between them, not that Ludwig expected a proper conclusion to their conversation or a goodnight kiss or anything else for that matter. That would probably scare the hell out of him anyway. But surprisingly, despite not looking back, before Romano could disappear inside the dark building he stopped. "Finish off the wine, you seemed to be enjoying it," he started. "But if you get drunk and start wandering around the estate I'm gonna let the dogs chase you the whole night, asshole! Goodnight…"

The blonde blinked. Even in the orange light of the dancing fire Romano's ears were bright red – and probably his face, too, Ludwig didn't know for sure as the man was facing away from him.

Did he just….?

The retreating steps echoed on the corridor leaving the younger nation completely flabbergasted. Has he really just-… Been nice to him…?

No way! Or was it only the alcohol?

But, it seemed Romano really did try to be nice. As much as it was possible between them, of course.

Germany bit his lip and reached after the glass trying to repress the goofy smile that wanted to split his face in half. It's not like he really wanted to hide it, and probably no one could see him anyway, but he just didn't want Romano to realize with his sixth sense how happy this little conversation made him. The man would try to beat the shit out of him for that for sure.

These brothers truly were similar to each other after all.

oOo

It was way past midnight when Ludwig finally decided to go back to his room, too. The music still played and some people were still having fun, but the majority of the estate's residents were already gone. The wine was finished, the empty bottle seemed almost lonely standing abandoned on the top of the parapet.

Germany stretched lazily, his numb and satiated body demanding the softness of bed, yet his mind was surprisingly clear. With all the things that happened that day it was almost unnatural how calm he felt.

Seeing Italy again, even if mainly from afar, the dinner, the conversation with Romano, his past… It was overwhelming but at the same time he couldn't remember the last time he felt so at peace. Things made sense. And sure, he'd really have liked to sit down with his brother and discuss everything but even without that, his life was more or less on track. He was who he was, and nothing could change that.

And to top it all off he sort of reconciled with Romano, as well. Sort of, because he was not delusional enough to believe that from now on they will be best buddies or anything like that. Ideally now they will manage to be civil during meetings, and Romano won't look at him as if trying to blow up his head with his mind. And maybe Germany won't lose his temper as quickly either. This was a good start. A brilliant actually. Now if he could just get back that same relationship what he once had with Italy before everything burned up in the flames of war that would be-…

That would be more than what he deserved.

But Ludwig really, desperately wanted that. Now more than ever. Because Italy knew his past yet treated him normally, giving a chance for a clean start. Because ironically Romano gave him a push towards forgiving himself, too. Because despite wanting to settle everything with his brother first, he knew that Gilbert would understand and encourage him to move forward.

But for some reason a part of him still hesitated. Whether it was fear of losing himself yet again, or just simple cowardice it was impossible to tell. Not that it mattered because the end result was the same.

Ludwig inhaled deeply, enjoying the salty scent of the sea brought by a warm breeze mingle with the earthy perfumes of the orchards and vineyards of the old country side. The night was balsamic but hot, almost stuffy. It would probably rain later, too. It was the type of weather when it was difficult to fall asleep, but the promise of languorous dreams beckoned Germany like twinkling lights in the distance. He was tired. It was time to retreat.

After all, he still had time to sort out the rest of his problems later.

Body moving heavily, his steps echoed on the empty corridors despite trying to be as quiet as possible. Dammit! If he woke up Romano… The man shook his head. That wouldn't be fun. And being chased by the dogs, - not like he really believed that it was possible, although the southern Italian was quite temperamental - wasn't on the top of his list to do either.

But Romano wasn't actually sleeping, and Ludwig learned that first hand when he rounded the next corner. His stomach did a double flip. Luckily, he had enough mental capacity and good reflexes to turn back on his heels immediately and hide, because the man wasn't alone. Spain was glued to him in his drunken stupor barely able to stand on his own, while the smaller nation tried to get him to his room.

Germany's wildly beating heart throbbed in his throat, and he couldn't understand why. It probably wasn't unusual, given the long years the two of them had known each other, and given their shared past. And really, Ludwig ought to have gone there and help out. But the familiar way Romano's arms supported the other, holding him almost tenderly made the blonde withdraw, and reluctant to show his presence.

The touch was intimate. Something he didn't expect from the normally violent nation. Especially not towards Spain who got constantly abused both physically and verbally for showing even an ounce of extra affection. But right now, as they struggled to move forward, Romano grumbling curses under his nose, the hand that waved itself around the taller nation's waist was unyieldingly protective.

No.

It was right out possessive. Desperately trying to hold the dark haired man close to himself as if the other would magically disappear. And that feeling of frantic urgency, the need for proximity, wanting to keep the other as close and safe as it was possible, what the smaller nation was displaying in that moment was something Ludwig new more than well. Because he felt exactly the same. Whether be it Gilbert or Italy, he just wanted to protect them. And he never imagined Romano showing this facial expression either.

A dull thud interrupted the silence of the night followed by a louder string of colourful profanities. Germany cautiously peeked out from behind the corner only to find the two southern nations lying on the ground.

Romano grumbled, trying to push the drunk man, who clearly couldn't stand anymore, off of himself. His efforts were futile, Spain's barely conscious bodyweight turning out to be too heavy for the smaller nation.

Romano cursed, "Fucking move you bastard! You're squashing me!" He tried again, thin arms flexing under the other man, but Spain was not only uncooperative but right out ruined any plans of escape by gluing himself to the smaller man.

"Aww, you're sho cuuute….," he slurred. The man giggled as well, wrapping himself around Romano in an awkward hug. "I _love_ you so much…."

The air froze. Even Ludwig forgot to breathe for a second. This wasn't just a randomly blurted out thing that drunk people usually did. Well, it was in a sense of course, since the dark haired nation was completely sloshed, but it was definitely a confession. And the way Spain's voice turned quiet and warm when he said it indicated that he was completely honest, too.

Germany always knew it. Despite being rather inept himself when it came to understanding feelings and interpersonal relations in general, - a weakness of his that put him into many uncomfortable situations, and that was pointed out to him on many occasions, mainly by his brother who never failed to make fun of him either like the insufferable douchebag he could be – even he picked up on the southern man's feelings towards the fiery Mediterranean. And it was strange and unprecedented because what kind of miracle it had to be for Germany to notice something like that, and for Romano to remain completely oblivious.

Except that maybe he wasn't that ignorant after all.

Ludwig wasn't sure what kind of reaction he expected from the smaller nation if he expected one at all. Maybe he did. Yes, if he was completely honest the usual reaction would have been verbal and physical abuse. Not serious one, of course, but enough to kick the other in the gut and let him sleep off the alcohol in the cold corridor. Or, if Romano felt generous enough, after kicking Spain in the gut he might have still taken him back to one of the guest rooms. It was a possibility, after all it wasn't like he hated Spain with burning passion. But nothing like that happened, and Germany's heart almost popped out through his throat as he watched in complete and utter shock as one of Romano's hands waved itself into the other's dark hair tenderly, and the man sighed; his expression more bittersweet and melancholic than angry.

"You're such a selfish bastard," he started quietly. "Couldn't you say that to me once while you're sober…?"

Spain nuzzled his chest, giggling like a drunk idiot but the way he draped himself over the smaller was rather cautious and well-coordinated.

"But if I tell you while I'm sober you would hit me and reject me…" he whined.

"Don't just assume things…"

"Wouldn't you hit me?"

Romano turned crimson. "I probably would… But I wouldn't reject you…" he mumbled quietly.

Spain didn't pay attention to it. Whether he just ignored the comment or genuinely didn't hear it, it was impossible to tell.

A cooler puff of air wafted through the open window ruffling the curtains faintly, bringing quiet notes of a sweet melody. Someone was singing outside. The calmness was stifling. Sweat trickled down Germany's back tickling slightly. Heart beating like crazy, he was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be listening to this. It was too intimate, too precious, he had no right to witness it! But he couldn't move, scared that if he did so his presence would be discovered.

He took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. If he could just slowly move away-

"I don't want to hurt you…" Spain's drawn out voice made him freeze. "Romanito deserves the best… I'm just a failure…"

The black haired man choked on the last part of the sentence, hiccupping a couple of times. He was completely wasted. Romano sighed and patted the other on the back.

"You're an idiot." The melodic voice was frustrated, turning towards angry, but there was no real heat behind the words. "Now get off me, you ass! You're heavy…"

There was some clattering and a dull puff. The Mediterranean nation cursed again under his nose but it seemed they managed to get up. Germany wasn't sure. He didn't dare to look. Waiting for the clinking sound of shoes to disappear in the silence of the night completely, he stood there frozen.

Minutes ticked by.

Heartbeat palpitated like mad pumping blood to his ears with a deafening hum. Cold sweat trickled down his back, damp palms pressing against the cool wall. Germany shivered, despite the warm air.

Choking. It felt like choking.

Aside the mortifying experience of hearing something that wasn't meant to be for his ears, the words left him breathless and shaken. It was too real. Too much. Too close. It was too similar to his own feelings. And the sickening feeling of guilt that wrung his stomach like an old and dirty cloth almost made him return everything he had eaten before.

Was he too selfish as well? Just like Romano said, was it naïve and stupid and utterly egotistical of him to keep his distance from Italy because… Tsk! Because he was scared?

Germany cursed mentally, cheeks turning red from shame.

How disgraceful. How horribly disgraceful that he never considered it from this perspective. Just because he was too weak, he neglected Italy. He made him suffer. Again.

Fuck dammit, how many more times will he commit the same mistakes over and over!? Saying that he did everything for Italy's sake was just as misguided like saying that he did it for his children's sake. Even if his intentions were good originally, where did it lead in the end? And waiting for the other to approach him was, yet again, unbelievably selfish, and totally unfair.

Ludwig sighed, letting his head drop back against the wall.

It's not like he didn't understand Spain. Actually he understood him more than well, but his situation was a bit different though. Or at least that's how he tried to justify his actions. But… If Italy was thinking the same way as Romano, which was more the plausible given how they were siblings and all that, really, in the end what mattered was that he was a coward.

The blonde's jaw tensed in frustration.

He should do something. Take the next step after all. Not procrastinate anymore. He thought he still had a lot of time to heal and to sort things out, but maybe he was wrong. Or even worse, it was already too late…

Italy didn't have to wait for him to _fricking _finally make up his mind and approach him. Ludwig had no right to expect such thing. The smaller nation might have moved on. Saying that, even if the little temperamental menace decided that he had enough of the taller man's pussyfooting behaviour, it's not like they wouldn't be friends anymore. Politically they were working rather close. And Italy seemed to be incapable of disliking, even more hating anyone, his ever cheerful personality just-… Well, Ludwig just couldn't picture that at all.

But he might not get that almost intimate relationship back, what they had before. Having Italy rely on him, depend and trust… Even if it was disgustingly twisted and selfish, he liked that feeling. Because the Mediterranean nation was his first friend ever. Aside from Gilbert who was his other half, he didn't have anyone else before the brunette entered the picture. Of course, since then a lot of things have changed, Germany was slowly progressing on his own; slowly growing up, making friends and developing connections, but Italy was still special…

No.

He was really _special_.

Pressing his palm to his mouth to muffle the embarrassing noise, Germany gasped.

This idea has never crossed his mind before. At least, not in this form. But it was the undeniable truth. Just like for his brother, Italy was for him as well, beautifully, foolishly, gut-wrenchingly _special_. In the deepest, most cherished meaning of the word, that Ludwig refused to acknowledge just yet, _that_ was Italy. With small and weak fingertips hesitantly caressing, warming up his cold and monochrome world.

Germany staggered, legs numb and heavy like lead, he moved automatically, too anxious to stand still. He barely noticed reaching his room; vaguely remembered getting changed and washing his face; he couldn't remember switching off the lights and going to bed at all.

The air in the room was stifling. Muggy. The sheets and the duvet clung to him like some kind of flesh eating vines creeping all over his body, choking slowly.

It was his fault. His bloody mistake! He should have reached out to the smaller nation years ago. And as his fingers twisted into the soft fabric shaking just slightly, wondering if it wasn't too late perhaps, if he even deserved a second and a third chance, Ludwig wished, hoped, _prayed_ for the door to creak open and for a softly swishing auburn curl to peek in. Just like it always did before, annoying him to no end. Yet somehow he never really stopped him either. In retrospect, he was being foolish.

Time seemed to drag on. He couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning in the bed, sweat trickled down his neck. The perfumed air of the night was stifling. It would surely rain soon. Germany couldn't wait for the fat raindrops to hit the ground and refresh this scorching world; _his _scorching and confused and restless world; it'd be a balm for troubled spirit. But the oppressing clouds which appeared from seemingly out of nowhere refused to split. Ah, here even the weather was temperamental!

Ludwig repressed a sardonic smile. His behaviour was unusual. But it couldn't be helped. He still waited.

Would he…? Would Italy come? Would he really-

Something clicked. Germany's body stiffened, head snapping towards the door. Was he delusional? Delirious in this humid heat? Could it be-?

Pale fingers twitched. Ludwig held back an anxious breath.

The door remained stubbornly unmoving. Was it the wind then? But just as the wildly thudding heart in his chest started calming down, the door creaked after all, and a small figure slipped in, bare feet tentatively moving deeper inside.

It was a hazy apparition, striking Ludwig with fear, as it moved step by step closer slowly. Then the apparition turned into a fickle spirit as a gently bobbing curl swished in the breeze, white curtains fluttering in the darkness of the room. It started to rain. And when the first drops hit the ground purifying the world with their deafening clattering Germany exhaled as well, breathing for the first time seemingly since forever.

It was an angel.

Apparition or fickle spirit or a ghost… It was all of it at the same time. The way Italy stood there timidly, moving almost soundlessly with olive skin glowing even in the darkness of the night… He was an angel. Bringing peace and cleansing his burning mind of all the roiling thoughts.

Germany sat up, excitement coursing through his body like an electric current, barely able to contain himself.

He came! Italy came after all! Just like before!

His deranged heart painfully thudded as if trying to break his ribcage from the inside out. He almost couldn't believe it. Italy really-

"I'm sorry!" The smaller nation recoiled and halted from the sudden movement. He took a step back, ready to bolt at any time. Germany's stomach churned with fear. "I didn't know you were awake. I'll better-…"

He couldn't finish. The sheets rustled, Germany was on his feet within a second, grabbing the other's hand and pulling him closer with such force that both of them landed on the bed again. Italy let out a surprised yelp, but the blonde's arms held him securely, not letting go even for a moment.

"Germany!?"

"I'm so glad you're here!"

The small body within his arms stiffened, but as the words slowly sunk in the older nation relaxed. For a while, no one spoke; only the heavy raindrops rattled outside. The little hands that were clenched into his tank-top holding on for support opened, palms gliding over his torso, radiating unbelievable heat, circling into a loose embrace.

The rain clattered on, some of the drops wetting the floor under the open window when the wind picked up. The air cooled down.

Italy moved just a bit closer.

"What's wrong Germany?"

The whispered words tickled the blonde's chest.

"I'm sorry."

"There is nothing you have to apologise for-…"

"There is!" Ludwig interrupted, arms squeezing just a fraction. "There is so much to apologise for… I don't even know where to start…" He didn't specify it. Really, there was so much he wanted to say; so many things he wanted to clear up; so many selfish, horrible, stupid and misguided things he committed and craved Italy's forgiveness for… It was painful. And he wondered if the smaller man would understand even if he didn't say it out loud.

And it seemed Italy did understand, because he moved suddenly, inching a bit further up on the bed so he could reach after Germany's head and draw it close to his own chest, hugging protectively. "You already apologised enough," he started quietly. "But I understand. So let's take it slow, shall we? Step by step. Let's start over, and become friends again, okay?"

Heart skipping a beat, Ludwig exhaled, a huge weight falling off of his chest. Yes, that's exactly what he wanted. A chance to prove himself again. A chance to start anew. Well, maybe not from zero, he was selfish enough after all, but he really wanted to start from a point where he could get to know Italy properly this time. Not only as a nation, but as a person as well.

Germany's relieved and grateful nod was followed by a soft pat on the head.

"I promise to do my best too," the older continued suddenly, petite hands that waved themselves into blonde hair shaking just a tiny bit. "I'll try to be patient, and not be too pushy… But, I missed Germany a lot. I'm glad to have you back like this… After all, Germany is really special to me…"

Ba-dump!

He couldn't quite explain it. This sudden reaction, this sudden pain in his heart. It wasn't entirely bad, but it was heavy and pressing. Oppressing. Demanding. It stirred within him restlessly, wanting him to react.

_Special._

He hasn't heard that world in this context for decades. The last person – the only person, - who called him like that was Prussia. And the memory that associated with this term was pleasantly tickling and heavily weighing down on him at the same time.

Gilbert was special. In so many ways that he couldn't even count it. Gilbert was his guardian, his brother, his lover, his other half. He loved the man in more ways than one, and he knew that no matter what that would never change.

But hearing Italy saying the same words… That was a responsibility, mixing with guilt and fear and just a twinge of jealousy. Because Italy was _special_, too. Not only for him, but for Gilbert, as well. Whatever it meant… He wasn't completely sure, but it was alright. Italy was important for both of them. In what way that was still to figure out, but he had time. From now on, until he was reunited with his brother, he would work to understand the little nation and his own feelings. So when the time came, and he was standing in front of Gilbert again, he had a clear head.

The white curtains fluttered like a wavering ghost at a stronger gust of wind. The older man shivered. Ludwig's heavy body sluggishly moved, reluctant to leave the comfortable and soothing warmth of the other behind in order to stand up and close the window. But he barely raised himself when small hands twisted into his top and pulled him back.

Italy was blushing. Even if Germany couldn't see it through the darkness of the night, just the way the other looked, thick eyelashes covering his pretty eyes unable to keep eye contact, biting his lip awkwardly, it was so obvious. Something slithered over the blonde's stomach. Not unpleasantly, but he couldn't quite identify the feeling.

Italy opened his mouth, abused lip slipping free, "Germany is really special to me… so… I-"

He couldn't finish. Germany's hand clamped over his mouth almost immediately. He knew what was coming. What the smaller wanted to say. And honestly it made something in the pit of his stomach dance vigorously. Warm and fuzzy feeling spreading in his body like rapid fire, he couldn't allow Italy to finish the sentence. Not because he didn't want to hear it, but because it would be utterly selfish and unfair making the other to take the first step. Yet again. Germany was a responsible, adult man after all. And he has just decided to not wuss out and to take matters in his own hands.

"Ludwig. Call me Ludwig," he said.

Italy's lips quivered under his palm just for a moment before pulling away and smiling up at him with such radiance that the blonde almost choked on thin air. Italy's eyes filled with tears, but his happy expression could've melted an iceberg.

"Then you too, call me Feliciano, _Ludwig_…"

"Feliciano."

The name was sweet, rolling off of his tongue with natural ease. "Feliciano…," he repeated again, calling out to the other with more fondness than ever before.

Italy nuzzled closer as a response, and Germany drew the duvet above both of them, ignoring the window and the clattering rain after all. The Mediterranean sun that radiated from the smaller body was enough to keep them warm through the whole night anyway.

He had taken the first step. Slowly, and hesitantly, but it was finally behind him. And Ludwig was sure that each next step from now on would be easier to take. He was looking forward to it, for the first time not with fear, but excitement.

~Fin~

**Historical Notes:**

Berlin Wall: was a barrier that divided Berlin from 1961 to 1989. Constructed by the German Democratic Republic (GDR, East Germany), starting on 13 August 1961, the Wall completely cut off (by land) West Berlin from surrounding East Germany and from East Berlin until government officials opened it in November 1989. Its demolition officially began on 13 June 1990 and was completed in 1992. _(Wiki)_

All the historical data is gathered mainly from the Wikipedia. Might not be the most reliable of source, but this is just a fanfiction. Thanks for reading through all of this!


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